Nobody's Diary
by Helen Pattskyn
Summary: La Femme NikitaCrow Crossover...what happens when a restless soul discovers that he must perform one last task before allowed his final rest...


A Crow / La Femme Nikita Crossover in which a restless soul finds he has one last task to fulfill before finding his final peace – he has to say good bye to the woman he once loved and help her re-discover her own ability to love her real Soul-Mate, a strange man named Michael. This is not your typical Crow story as it lacks the usual violence that goes along with the Crow – this is in essence a love story, but I hope its one the reader will enjoy.

Back story: The character Gray is from an episode in the first or second seasons; Nikita wooed him on orders from Section One and was then forced to break up with him after developing real feelings for the guy. She broke up withGray abruptly, breaking his heart. I would like to thank the person who corrected the original text and gave me the correct name (and gender) for Gray's child!

This story also first appeared on the Crow Archive Page, which is now housed on the A Boy and his Bird Website.

This story is dedicated to Malcom... an acquaintence who makes me smile at the oddest times... even if my dog doesn't like you!... Hopefully I'll get up to Toronto to see them perform again sometime, because Another 1000 Miles are awesome!

Usual disclaimers... I don't own anything!

**Nobody's Diary**

_Nikita._

_Nikita._

_Nikita._

She woke with a start to the sound of someone calling out her name – _Nikita._

She woke ready to act – but her apartment was completely empty - dark. Quite. She was all alone...The room was illuminated only by the neon lights from the city beyond her lonely window. _Nikita._

She was the only one there – she was alone. So why did her name still echo through the silence? Nikita.

Nikita got up and walked to the window; peering out into the city's neon lit street she saw nothing out of place until a shadow passed in front of her against the bright lights below. But there was nothing there. Nerves, that was all, she told herself, too many years of jumping at every noise, expecting a killer in every shadow; too many years of having to guard her own back.

Nikitapulled the sheer white curtains shutand went back to bed, forcing herself to sleep. It wassomething she'dlearned early on in her career with Section. Grab sleep when you can and where you must – you never know when you're going to have to go into action.

Across from her window the big black bird sat, watching her shut the window and go back to sleep. It was still there when the sun came up...

Nikita woke early, grabbed a quick shower and dressed for a run in the park, still feeling restless from the night before. Maybe it was just excess adrenaline. Sometimes that happened – but at least she hadn't had any nightmares this time.She finished stretching out and opened the door of her apartment; like everything else in her life, Section had arranged it for her. There was an envelope taped to her door. She peered cautiously up and down the hall – she saw no one, but could still hear the echo of her name through the emptiness. _Nikita_

Frowninddeeply, she wonderedif it was Michael; ever since that strange side mission a few months ago, he'd been acting oddly...even for him. Hekept expectingsomething from her that she just didn't feel. She didn't know _why_ she didn't feel it – and she didn't question it either. Whatever had happened, she had no emotions for him whatsoever. Ever since then he had withdrawn into himself; so had she. Still, surly if he had come to see her this morning he would have knocked – or let himself in. It wouldn't be the first time he'd just barged right in and helped himself to a few minutes of her life... She realized she'd been standing in the hall staring at the envelope for an inordinate amount of time, without really looking at it at all. She alsorealized that the handwriting wasn't Michael's.

Cautiously, Nikita peeled the envelope off her door and carried it out to the yard behind her apartment building to read. She knew that her apartment was watched; they were all watched. She had grown accustomed to it... it was all a part of 'life' in Section One...Nikitadidn't quite recognize the handwriting, although she was sure that she should. The message was strange:

'Meet me at the café just off the park.'

A part of her subconscious wanted to call Michael, to ask his advice – or to see Walter, he always knew what to do. But mostly she just wanted to put the last mission behind her. Nikita stretched out againand started her jog, hoping to outrun her life as easily as she outran the stationary trees that lined the street, as easily as sheoutran the ordinary people on their way to their ordinary jobs, obsessed over the details of their ordinary lives. She wanted to outrun them all – to outrun everything – but in the end she knew that she would be back in her apartment, back at her 'job', back to her life which was anything but ordinary. Nikita took only vague notice of the large black bird following her.

When she reached the park, Nikita jogged the trail until she came to the little outdoor café. There was no one there she recognized. Still, it was as good a place as any to sit down and catch her breath, maybe read through the headlines and see what the real world was up to – the world that went on by and large because Section was there to get rid of the boogie men. Red Cell, Glass Curtain, no one knew that these organizations existed and that they threatened to pull all the threads out of the fabric of society. No one knew and no one cared.

"Orange juice please – and the morning paper – the Sun. Thanks," Nikita took her change, juice and paper from the guy behind the counter and found a corner table that gave her a view of everyone coming and going.

"Thanks for coming," said a familiar voice at her elbow.

Nikita started, unable to believe ears or her eyes as she stared up at the handsome gentle faced man with spiky hair. It was dark brown now, but years ago it had been blond, though obviously bleached. "Gray, what a surprise," she tried not to show just how much of a surprise it really was. He was wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans that laced up the sides, lace up boots, and a black leather trench coat. He only barely looked like the man she had once known – and yet she knew that she would never not recognize him, no matter how much either of them changed. He was the first man she had ever truly loved – and they had taken that away from her. "What are you doing here? Is your daughter with you?"

"Casey's dead."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," She reached to touch his arm – he took her hand in his. His touch seemed cold. "What happened?" Nikita drew him to the seat next to her.

"It's long and complicated. But it's over now. I just had to see you again – I hope you can forgive me. I know you said that you wanted me out of your life."

"It was a difficult period for me," she told him.

"And is it still?"

Nikita shrugged, "I think that my life'll always be difficult and complicated." She smiled, remembering a time when her life was so much simpler, a time when she would have been able to enjoy being in love with a man like Gray, a man so gentle and tender, so eager to love and be loved. Ending their relationship had been one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do – but it was either that or Section would kill him.

"I need to ask you something Nikita – maybe its silly, but I just need to know if you ever really loved me, even just a little bit."

"Gray – " she began.

"No please, I need to know. Did you love me, even a little?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her – Nikita found her lips meeting his, parting, their tongues intertwining. Her eyes slid shut – his hands cupped her face, drawing her further into him. He was so cold – but still so tender and gentle. Yet there was something there – something that hadn't been there before – something feral almost. She could get lost in that kiss – lost in the lust that overtook her.

"God I missed that," he whispered when their mouths finally parted; his lips brushed her ear, his face was buried in her long blond hair. "Of all the things to miss about a woman, I missed the way that you kissed me."

"I can't stay long," she breathed softly, wishing that she could.

Gray pulled further back, though he kept her face cupped between his hands, savouring her warmth. "I know, you always were running off some where or another. Dinner?"

"Gray, I can't. My life –"

"Is complicated, I know. Dinner, no strings. This may be the last chance you get to see me, Nikita – the last chance I ever get to see you. I'd just like to spend a few hours with you, that's all."

There was something in the desperation of his tone, something in the sorrow of his eyes that compelled her. "I don't know about tonight, but I should be free tomorrow, around eight?"

"Tomorrow then," he kissed her once more, fiery passion filling Nikita to the core of her being. "Should I pick you up?" He asked.

Nikita managed to shake her head, 'no'. "I'll meet you – The Arboretum. Know it?"

"I'll be there."

He smiled - and got up, leaving her to her business... he lost himself in the city for the day - lost the day to the city... Gray was only barely aware that the whole day had slipped by when he heard a voice in his head... it was unbidden, butby now he was used to the intrusion.

_'This is a mistake,' the crow said._

_"I know. But this has got to be why I'm still here."_

_'It's still a mistake.'_

_"Would you shut up unless you have something useful to say to me?"_

_'How about what I have to show you, monkey boy?'_

Gray closed his eyes and allowed the crow's vision to overlap with his – it was still weird, even after three months.

How he longed, longed to return, to see his daughter again – but he was still here. Even after he'd killed the men who had murdered Casey – murdered him, in cold blood. So cruel – so cold. They were cold now, cold and in the ground, their lived ended as cruelly as they had ended his. And yet he had not returned to the empty earth himself; he had not returned to the grave as he had expected to.

There was only one loose end in his life that he could think of – Nikita. Their relationship had been sudden, it had come out of no where at a time in his life when he thought that he would never love again. He had never expected to find someone so perfect, so beautiful – after all, what woman wants to go out with a man who has a seven year old, even a boy as wonderful as Casey? Most women his age just saw a kid as baggage. But not Nikita. She liked Casey – and Casey liked her. He had been so sure that his daughter would never love again either, never be able to attach himself to another adult woman in the way he attached himself to the mysterious blond...

Gray had never understood why she broke if off with him so suddenly. There was no warning or indication that anything was wrong; in fact, everything seemed so perfect! Then one day he arrived at her apartment and she told him it was over between them. He had seen it in her eyes that she didn't want to, that she still loved him, no matter how much she tried to deny it to him – to herself. It was a puzzle.  
Gray hadn't realized until this morning that he never really got over her. He had continued on with his life, gone through the motions, laughed, cried...died. Then today he saw her again and that place in his heart that had been closed off for so long broke open again and he realized just how much he had really loved her. He could never have her now, but at least he could tell her good bye. That had to be why he was still here – he had to tell her good bye. He had to see the woman he loved – the only woman other than Casey's mother that he had ever loved – just one last time before he re-joined his daughter on the other side. There was no other explanation...

Gray saw her now, clearly through the crow's eyes. She was with her cousin, Michael – they were in the warehouse district – something was definitely off. They both wore long coats; Nikita's was tan, Michael was in black. Gray recognized the slight bulges in the drape of the fabric; guns. They were both armed. They both wore dark sunglasses. Nikita was dressed very unlike the woman he remembered, the woman in pastel sweaters and tweed skirts. Today she had on dark pants, rubber soled shoes, a dark turtleneck. Her expression was grim and kept looking around, obviously apprehensively. Michael was carrying some sort of heavy-duty steel brief case – there were three other men and one woman at the end of the yard that it looked as if Nikita and Michael were meeting – they were also armed, but the display was open, no attempts to hide the guns from Nikita and Michael. These four had apparently arrived at the site in the black Yukon in front of which the they stood, imposingly – it looked like Michael and Nikita had come on foot, or parked their car somewhere out of sight.

_"Can you get any closer? I want to hear what they're saying."_

_'You don't ask for much, do you?'_ The crow flapped to a closer vantage point.

"Do you have the merchandise?" Michael asked the woman.

"You got the money?" One of the big guys flanking her asked. He, like his 'twin' on the other side, was wearing a dark suit, dark tie (his was deep burgundy) and dark shirt.

Michael presented the brief case – Nikita seemed to be keeping a sharp look out, watching for any trouble in the windows around them.

Through the crow's eyes he could see that the place was pretty much deserted – he began to run, his legs carrying him effortlessly through back alley ways, his eyes watching his surroundings and the scene before the crow's eyes simultaneously. It had been a disconcerting experience at first, now he was used to it. He could find the crow no matter where it was, and it could find him.

Gray watched as the leader of the other group, an older man with graying temples in a dark business suit, nodded – the woman at his side pulled a small brief case out from the truck and opened it. Gray couldn't tell what was in the vials, but the contents seemed to please Michael, who nodded and handed one of the big thugs the brief case – when it was opened, it was full of neatly stacked, unmarked gold bars.  
The leader nodded. "It has been a pleasure doing business with Section once again. Give my regards to Madeline."

_'Some girlfriend you had,'_ the crow spoke into Gray's mind.

_"I don't understand. She was a student."_

_'Looks more like a smuggler or thief to me, monkey boy, and I should know. I see all kinds of shit in my line of work.'_

_"I don't suppose you have any idea what was in the case Michael took?"_

_'It looked like some sort of medical shit – I saw the emblem of that lab somewhere once, in Germany. Which is one hell of a long way from here, I might add.'_

_"I didn't flunk geography."_ Gray told thebig black birdacerbically. He was there, nearly on top of them. There was a black van parked in the alley way – he found his way to the top of one of the buildings via a fire escape ladder. From this vantage point, Gray could see Nikita and Michael get into the van – it didn't look like any sort of model that he knew. There was no manufacturer's name or dealer marking. The van drove off.

_"Follow it."_

'_Gheesh,'_ it responded. _'Not even a please.'_

_"Please."_

_>_

_"Well?"_

_'Sorry, couldn't keep up with a plane,'_ the crow said. It was perched once more on Gray's shoulder.

A plane? The plot thickened.

>

Nikita looked radiant – she wore a long slim skirt of dark grey wool with a cream coloured sleeveless pull over. Her hair was slightly curled, her lips glossy pink – she smiled when she saw him. Her smile was filled with all the warmth he remembered; she wasn't faking it, Gray was certain he would have known it if she was. She was genuinely pleased to see him.

Gray was wearing an unreadable expression – he wore a dark silk shirt, dark pants and the same boots – he seemed to have changed a lot. Loosing his daughter must have had a real impact – Nikita could not begin to imagine the loss of a child. Her mind drifted briefly to the last time she had seen her own mother – convinced that Nikita was dying of some government experiment, she had finally abandoned her search for her daughter. Listening to her mother cry, hearing her mother's last good bye, Nikita's own heart had broken – they had parted on such bad terms before that – but she couldn't tell her mother that she forgave her. If her mother didn't give up her search she would end up dead, just like Gray almost had. Nikita forced herself back to the present and smiled as Gray neared.

"You look wonderful," he said. "You haven't changed much."

She shrugged, unable to really respond to that – he seemed so – so very cold.  
"What have you been up to - you must have graduated by now," Gray sat down across from her.

"I'm sort of between jobs right now, just taking a little while to sort things out, I guess," she smiled. "What about you, what have you been doing?"

Gray gave an askance smile and half laugh, "After we slit up I thought my world was going to end. No, I'm not mad at you, please don't think that. I didn't want to see you just to guilt you or make you feel badly over what happened – it just happened, that's all." He felt her hand cover his; she was so warm, so alive. So – sad. There was a sorrow in her that he didn't remember before – but then, he hadn't had the preternatural senses that he now possessed. Gray smiled, a real smile. "Casey and I moved to California. He hated it at first – then he discovered the ocean." Gray felt the stab of sadness again, the ache of his loss. How he longed to see Casey again! "I couldn't keep him out of it – he took up surfing and was pretty good for his age, too. I never was much into the water, myself."

The waitress came to take their order – they both ordered wine and appetizers to start.

"Have you ever been to California?" Gray asked her.

"Once – I didn't stay long though."

"You should go back if you get the chance. The culture is amazing – America really is a melting pot of ideas and fashion. I almost thought for a while that I'd be able to forget about my broken heart. Then, then I lost my daughter – I'm sorry,"he took a breath.It still hurt. God it still hurt! Even after they were dead, it still hurt. To the rest of the world it had been a little over a year, but for him it was barely three months since those sick bastards had taken his daughter's life. And his.

"If it's too painful," Nikita squeezed his hand.

"No, talking about it helps – when the person listening cares. I knowCasey really liked you, Nikita and I always thought that – that you cared for her."

"Very much," she said softly.

Gray took a deep breath, "It was Casey's birthday – she was turning eleven years old, if you can believe it's really been that long. I don't know what happened, not exactly – I guess we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a drug deal gone wrong – there was shooting, people running – three of them jumped into our car and said that if I didn't take them where they wanted to go, they'd kill us both."

"Oh my God," Nikita breathed. The pain in his eyes was overwhelming – he must relive the incident every time he shut them, she thought. "What happened?"

"Four days later they left us in the desert to rot." He glossed over the fact that they'd tortured them both before finally shooting Casey in the head and then shot him as well, leaving the two of them for the vultures. "Casey didn't make it." No one had ever found the bodies. It wasn't until he had come back that he was able to give what was left of his daughter a proper burial. "It took me a long time to find the spot where she died so that she could be buried next to his mother. The authorities never found out who killed Casey." But of course that was a moot point now, Gray thought silently – they were rotting in graves of their own. A shiver of glee filled him over that fact. Yes, they got what they deserved – got it and more. Cold hatred had sustained his existence for long enough to kill those bastards – so what was keeping him here now? It had to be more than meets the eye...

"How did you survive?" Nikita asked.

"I don't know – how does a parent survive the loss of a child?"

She held him, for many, many long moments; anger, hatred, fear, love – it was all a jumble for him now. Everything was upside down and inside out – and he was still here.

From his surveillance point outside the restaurant, Michael watched the two of them through the compact, high intensity binoculars. The last time he checked, Gray was living in Venice Beach, California in the United States – that was about five years ago, just after Nikita had broken it off with him. Michael put the binoculars back into his jacket pocket and pulled his bike into traffic – he needed to do some checking. Nothing was coincidence, and if Gray was here than there had to be a reason...

'_Yo, monkey boy,'_ the crow said into Gray's head, _'You got company.'_

_"I know,"_ Gray replied silently, from the safety of Nikita's warmth, _"Follow him. Please." _He added before the crow could admonish his rudeness yet again.

Chuckling quietly to himself, the bird took off after the man on the bike.

What Michael found when he got back to his apartment and started checking data bases made him even more suspicious – both Gray and his daughter had vanished just over a year ago. Authorities had found Gray's car abandoned in Texas, traces of blood and gun powder all over it. He wondered if Gray had been recruited somehow, to get at Section through Nikita – it was the only thing that made sense. He drove to Nikita's apartment.

_'Cousin Michael, is back again,'_ the Crow said into Gray's head.

Gray didn't say anything – he was otherwise engaged, although he sent a vague acknowledgement of the message. So Mikey was back to play – he wondered what the boy had found out that had made him rush over to Nikita's apartment in the middle of the night. Maybe another urgent message from 'Aunt Josephine.'

Nikita smiled up at him, "I thought you said dinner and no strings."

"So I lied," he stroked her hair, her breasts, her belly and her legs, all the way down to her toes and then back up again, caressing and nibbling. "You are so beautiful – what's this?" He asked of the small scar on her thigh.

"Nothing, just a stupid accident," Nikita lied.

The door bell rang.

"Damn it," she muttered wondering who could be at her door at midnight. There weren't too many possible answers. "Stay here, I'll get rid of them, who ever it is," she kissed him again, long and passionately – she had forgotten what it was like to feel this much fire. Nikita slipped on his shirt and headed to the door.

Gray lay back on the sheets and felt. It was something the crow had taught him how to do, to feel and smell and sense with abilities beyond the normal senses. He could feel her pain and her sorrow, how much she hated her life – how she rarely laughed or felt any kind of real happiness. The scar on her leg had been a gun shot wound – whatever she was into it wasn't what it seemed. It wasn't the only scar he'd seen, just the only one he commented on. Gray heard Michael's voice, felt the man's racing heart, smelled the sweat and aftershave, the scent of the metal of his gun.

"I hope I haven't interrupted anything – nice shirt." Michael brushed past her into the apartment.

"Sure, come on in," Nikita slammed the door shut.

"What exactly are you doing here at this hour?" She demanded – he was looking around her apartment as if he was looking for something. Or someone. Had he actually been following her?

"Are you alone?"

"No, I have company."

"Who?"

"An old friend."

"Anyone I know?"

"Michael, how nice to see you again," Gray came down, wrapped in a sheet; this was too much to pass up. "Sorry for the toga – Nikita seems to have nicked my shirt," he grinned. He held out his hand.

Michael accepted it.

"Say, I never did get a chance to thank you for recommending that hotel I took Nikita to that one time – you were right, she really loves that place."

"Anything to help," Michael forced congeniality. Something was off. He could feel it. "What have you been up to? It's been a long time." He could see something in Gray's eyes that hadn't been there before; a weariness – a feral quality. The man was a predator – and a dangerous one at that. Looking into Gray's eyes was like looking into his own reflection in the mirror – Gray was a man who could – and had – taken life remorselessly.

"Sure has – not been up to much really. I moved to California after your cousin broke my heart. I figured a change of scenery would do me good – it did. For the most part." Gray smiled a wicked smile; he knew what Michael saw in him.

"So what brings you back here?" Michael asked, taking a seat without being invited to

"There were a few loose ends from my old life that needed tying off. Unfinished business can weigh the soul down." Gray sat next to him.

Michael just nodded. They locked eyes for a long moment, each examining the other's soul – they each saw darkness, death and pain – neither looked away for a very long moment. Finally Michael broke eye contact – the corner of Gray's lips twitched upwards in a slight smile. I'm not so timid now, eh, Mikey, he thought to himself. Each knew the other to be a stone cold killer, but Gray knew that he was colder, harder, more inhuman – and Michael knew it too.

"Is there some reason you dropped by, Michael?" Nikita asked him, shooting the man with a dark glare. The exchange between them had not gone unnoticed, but she chalked it up to testosterone inspiredbravado.

"I was in the area and I know you usually stay up late – but since you have company I guess I'll just see you in the morning." He stood and leaned in to kiss her cheek – Nikita returned the gesture with counterfeit affection.

Gray watched them – he wondered if the stiffness had always been there between them and he'd just never noticed it before now, or if the awkwardness was something new. There was a resistance between them – a ghost of a pain that he could see, as tangibly as if it was a thing that hung in the air – they were like a pair of magnets. Turn them one way and they would cling together, turn them the wrong way and they would repel each other away and the repelling was killing them both. He was beginning to get a sense of why he was still around.

>

"You had no right to follow me!" she hissed when Michael caught up with her jogging the next morning.

Overhead the crow flew, un-noticed.

"I still care about you, Nikita."

"That part of my life is over, Michael. I don't need you caring about me, and I don't need you following me."

"What about Section – you know what happened the last time you engaged in a relationship with that man."

"Last night was a one-night stand – his daughter died last year – things just happened."

"According to the data base, both he and his daughter vanished last year, without a trace. His car was found in Texas."

"You ran a check on him?" she demanded, angrily.

"I was concerned. He just seems to have popped up out of no where after a year of not being seen by anyone. He has no job, no address – nothing. Remember how we found you, Nikita."

"How the hell could I forget."

"Section isn't the only group that operates that way."

"Gray would never hurt me."

"Just in case you hadn't noticed, he's not the same man he was five years ago."

"Leave it alone, Michael," Nikita told him darkly. Still, she couldn't deny that Gray seemed colder – she had attributed it to the loss of his daughter, but what if Michael was right? No – Gray would never hurt her. So why hadn't he mentioned that Casey had been dead for over a year? The way he talked about it she had felt certain that he'd just died.

"Are you seeing him again?"

"I don't think so. He was gone before I woke up this morning."

_>_

_"I owe you,"_ Gray said to the crow.

_'You owe me anyway.'_

Gray told the computer geek the bird helped him find everything he knew about Nikita and waited – what the hacker came up with was not anything that he would have expected. According to all official records she had killed a cop, been sentenced to life in prison and died in a fight shortly after her incarceration. A little further digging revealed that she had actually gone into some sort of top secret drug testing program and died as a result – either way, she was supposed to be as much of a corpse as he was. "Thanks," Gray told the kid.

"Anytime, dude – I'll always do a favour for one of you guys."

Gray frowned. People knew about them?

_'It's a long story,'_ said the crow on his shoulder. '_Another one like you saved his life when he was a kid. You'd be amazed at how many mortals out there owe their lives to your kind.'_

"I only wish that that could have saved my son," Gray said softly to the bird. He left the kid's apartment with entirely too much to think about.

>

"There has to be something more than that," Nikita leaned over Burkoff's shoulder to look at the file herself. "No one just vanishes."

Seymore Burkoff shot her a glance over his shoulder as if to say, _right, sure._ Out loud he said, "That's all I have, so that's all there is. There is no death certificate on the daughter and no police report about being kidnapped. The daughter was never buried, at least not where you said she should be."

"I know that Michael can't be right on this one," she muttered. She knew Gray – his passion was real, she could feel it in his kiss. Stealing a glance upwards, Nikita could see Operations staring down at her from his lofty office. He reminded her of a vulture, always circling, waiting for one slip up, then he'd be on her like a carrion bird on a carcass.

"You ok?" Burkoff asked.

"Yeah, fine," She lied. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

>

"How did you get in here?"

Gray smiled – he was wearing his working cloths, but not his working face. He sat in crouched on the dining room table, his chin resting on closed fists, staring at the enlarged photograph of the young boy. "Magic," he replied to the other's question. "Who's the boy?"

"My son. He lives with his mother," Michael added before the other could ask.

"Where's she? Nikita never mentioned that you were married."

"We're separated."

"Funny that this the only photograph around – what was your aunt's name, Josephine? No pictures of her, or of Nikita, no graduation photos or mementos of a past. One might think that you're a ghost." He hopped down from the table with preternatural grace. "Just like Nikita."

"What do you mean?" Michael asked. Gray was closing the distance between them; there was something about him that Michael found unnerving – a coldness that was colder than anything he'd ever encountered before. Michael would have sworn that the temperature in his apartment had dropped ten degrees.

"I did some checking," Gray said, "And she's dead. Dead as a door nail. Either in a prison fight or as the result of some voluntary drug testing – either way, she's bought the farm, kicked the bucket, pushing up daisies, gone and no more. Her only living relative is a mother. No auntie Josephine, no Cousin Michael – hell, her daddy isn't even around any more. Mom just had a string of boyfriends almost as long as her string of drug and prostitution convictions. Old girl finally cleaned herself up though." Gray was on top of him now – bare centimeters separating them. He peered into Michael's soul – listened to his heat beating, tasted the sweat and fear – yes, Mikey was actually afraid of him. Gray laughed and put a few more inches between them. "So, what's the story here, Mikey? What's really going on?"

Michael stared at the other blankly for a moment. "You must have good connections to have dug all that up."

Gray laughed harder, "Digging up, I like that. Yeah, you could say I'm good at digging up."

"What about you – you vanished without a trace a year ago and here you are, alive and well. They found your car in Texas, traces of blood and gun powder."

The flashes of that night came back to him, the end of a harrowing four days in hell. Gray laughed to keep them from overwhelming them, "Alive and well? No, not exactly."

"Not well, Gray?" Michael inched closer, trying to find some footing, some upper hand he might have over the other man. Gray was unreadable.

Gray chuckled more deeply, "Oh I'd say not."

"So why are you here?"

"It's just like I said, I'm tying up a few loose ends before moving on."

"Nikita?"

"She loved me, Michael, I know she did. I knew it when she was breaking up with me – it killed her as much as it killed me, but she did it any way. I never understood why she ended it between us, why she was always so evasive about her past. Why she never had any family photos either – not even of her dear cousin Michael. Now I'm beginning to understand, Michael, I'm beginning to understand a lot of things I never could have understood before my daughter died. There's something going on here. Something deeper than it appears. Like you and Nikita buying some sort of medical supplies from a sleeze ball in an expensive suit." He smiled at Michael's shock. "Who is Madeline, anyway?"

"Who do you work for?"

"Me?" Gray smiled, "I'm a free agent. Tell me something, Mikey, what do you think it would feel like to loose your son?"

Michael's eyes narrowed – was that a threat? Gray's lips were up turned in a wicked smile. Adam was all he had, his only legacy, even if the boy would never know that he was still alive. He loved his son fiercely – and would kill Gray here and now to protect him.

Gray pulled Michael to him by the shoulders and spoke in a low velvety whisper. "What do you think it would feel like to know that there would never be another birthday, another hug good night, another I love you?"

"It hurts," Michael found himself saying.

"But your son is still alive."

"Yes, but I'm dead. As dead to him as your daughter is dead to you."

"You're more dead than I am, Michael. You're so dead I don't know if you've ever been alive." Pain – Michael carried enough pain for two men. He carried as much pain as Gray did – maybe more… "Simone," Gray whispered.

"What?" Michael tried to pull away. "What did you just say?"

Gray shook himself, the connection lost, "Your first love, her name was Simone. You died when she died, and you haven't let yourself live again since. Until Nikita – it looks like we have more than death in common, Mikey. We have Nikita – except that you can have her where I cannot."

"I cannot have her either," Michael admitted, wondering for the dozenth time why he was talking to this man who had somehow found his apartment and then broken in without triggering any of the alarms. "She doesn't love me."

"I think you're wrong. I think that's why I'm here, why I can't find my rest." He laughed, "Goddamn, if this isn't ironic!"

"What?"

Gray just grinned like a madman, "Oh, Mikey, you have no idea – and its just as well that you don't. You wouldn't like to delve into my world any more than I would like to delve into yours. But I guess I must owe you something or I wouldn't be here to help you," he shifted his hold, to cup Michael's face, holding him with an iron grip.

Honest fear filled Michael – Gray was strong, stronger than any man should be. He seemed to be able to penetrate his very being with a glance, see even deeper than Madeline with all her training. Michael found himself unable to move.

Gray latched onto the thought of Madeline – he wanted to know who she was, what was her connection. He had felt the woman's presence on Nikita, he could smell the coldness. He pierced Michael's soul and saw far more than he wanted to see – pain, confusion, loss - love. "All I can do is take some of the pain with me," he whispered, kissing Michael on each cheek when he had what he wanted. With each brush of his lips he absorbed some of the other's sorrow.

"Who are you?" Michael managed to choke out. He felt as if something was being taken away from his very soul – but he felt lighter for the loss of it and the lightness was good.

"I'm a ghost, Mikey. A Ghost in the darkness of your soul – but I guess I owe you my life. The few years you gave me were well spent, I can tell you that much – better spent I think than what you have left of your life will be spent, if you don't make some serious changes."

"I can't."

"Mikey, look at me – you don't want to end up like me until you're as dead as I am – even then you don't really want to end up like me and I can see that you have the potential. Do yourself a favor, don't utilize it. Being a walking corpse is a drag, take it from a guy who knows." He let go of Michael's face and backed away, slowly.

Michael finally found his senses, found his gun, raised it - whatever mind game this guy was playing a bullet would stop him. Why was Gray smiling at him… he was grinning like a fool.

"Don't you listen to anything anyone tells you, Mickey? I'm dead, as dead as Nikita is supposed to be - bet you're supposed to be dead to, eh? Go on, shoot if you can - I've been shot and stabbed a couple of times already - it only stings a little. Eventually you learn to ignore the pain and just keep on going." He opened the door and backed out of Michael's apartment - the other followed him out into the hallway. Gray laughed maniacally and took a running leap out of the window at the end of the hall - Michael ran after him - he watched Gray plummet down four stories, flip over so that he landed back first on the pavement. After a moment, he blinked, laughed, got up, and ran into the night.  
Michael went back to his apartment and poured himself a shot of bourbon. Even if the fall hadn't been fatal, it should have at least slowed the other man down…

In the week that passed, neither Michael nor Nikita saw Gray again, and neither one spoke of him; they barely spoke at all, each retreating further into their own shells and into the lives that Section had appointed them. The walking corpse, however, kept tabs on their every move – timing, after all, was everything...

"Nikita, are you in position?"

"Almost." She whispered, pulling the black mask down over her face. She took a deep breath. "Ok, ready."

"Good, team two, in position?" Michael could see Nikita through the night vision binoculars, but the second team was well out of visual range. The complex was large and well fortified - and tonight there was a party going on. He scanned the lavishly costumed guests, arriving at the tall front gate in limousines, jaguars and Rolls Royces - the mansion beyond was well lit and heavily guarded. He tucked the binoculars back into his back pack - he didn't like the mission profile, even if he was the one who had come up with it. It was the only way to do it in the amount of time that they had, but he would have preferred another way - there were too many things that could go wrong here. A sound drew his attention - a crow? Out here, at night? Michael forced his attention back to the task at hand - he adjusted his jacket and got into the jaguar. It was a short drive up to the front gate.

>

_'You're crazy,'_ the bird informed him, and not for the first time tonight.

"Tell me about it," he said aloud. Tonight he was wearing his working face - tonight he would be working. Pale make up, not quite white, but certainly extreme, heavy black eye liner, black lips, he looked like something out of an eighties punk video with a black turtle neck and long black leather trench coat. It's a costume party, I should fit right in, he thought sardonically.

The crow on his shoulder seemed to find that thought amusing, ruffling his feathers and bobbing his head up and down.

Tonight Gray was working, but he wasn't going to kill someone, he was going to set someone free so that they could live. It seemed absurd, but he knew that it was what he had to do. The crow seemed to find that amusing too.

_"Keep an eye on her,"_ he whispered to the big black bird. Obligingly, it flapped off into the night.

>

Michael surveyed the room - so far so good. He smiled and nodded at strangers as if they were old friends, mingling amongst the guests as if he belonged there - he was dressed as well as any of them. He wore a loose poet shirt, tights and long cloak; his hair was tied back into a neat ponytail. There were two other agents in the room, and one of them was Madeline. He didn't like having her on site - it was too dangerous. For everyone. Including him. The past week, since Gray's sudden re-appearance had taken a certain toll on him and he knew that Madeline was beginning to suspect something. Michael had been careful to steer clear of Nikita except at Section - he wasn't sure if he wanted to know if she was seeing Gray again or not. He still could not reconcile what had happened that night that Gray had come to his apartment with what he knew to be reality and the laws of physics.

Michael took a deep breath and continued on his way towards the objective - that's when he caught a glimpse of the dark attired man in the harlequin-mask makeup - he recognized Gray instantly and knew that he had been right, Gray had been recruited by some other organization. Hell, maybe he'd even been recruited by one of the other Sections or by Oversight. "Abort," Michael said softly, knowing that it would be broadcast to the entire team.

"Negative," Madeline countermanded. She switched frequencies so that only Michael could hear her, "We won't get another opportunity like this one, Michael, we cannot abort."

"I have reason to believe that there is an unknown factor at work - a hostile."

"Explain."

"No time."

"We will not abort. That is a direct order." She switched back to the main frequency. "The mission continues as planned."

Each member of the team signaled their confirmation of the order.

Michael made his way towards Gray. He switched off his com piece. "Nice costume."

"Costume?" Gray asked, a grin forming on his darkened lips, "I didn't know this was a costume party, I thought the invitation said 'come as you are.'"

"Why are you here?"

"Why are any of us here, Mikey?"

"How did you survive the fall the other night?"

"Don't you ever pay attention? I told you. You'd better get back to work before that pretty lady over there notices that you aren't plugged into the system. By the way, Nikita is about to get herself hip deep in shit. You're right, what ever is about to go down here, its not going to go down the way you wanted it to, but not because of me. Excuse me," Gray slipped easily into the crowd before Michael could say anything more. Through the crow's eyes he could see the men watching Nikita - and he knew that the rest of her team were already dead. Mikey would have known too if he'd been plugged in.

>

This is gonna hurt, the crow thought, watching from a distance as his human leaped out in front of the spray of bullets, taking most of them for Nikita. She screamed, both in horror at the sight and in pain as two bullets grazed her flesh, one in the shoulder the other in the thigh. Still, she was a tough little cookie, no one could argue that - she returned fire and dragged herself over to Gray's bullet riddled body.

"Gray?" Tears slid down her cheeks. What the hell was he doing here! He wasn't moving – wasn't breathing.

His eyes fluttered open, "God, that hurt. You ok?"

"I'm fine - but - how? You were hit - "

Gray pulled himself up into a sitting position. "About seventeen times," he shook himself. "Don't worry, I'll be fine, really. Mikey, nice of you to join the party," he said, as Michael was coming into view, running low to the ground in the darkness. "Do us a favour and try to shoot some of those ass holes, would you? Its really hard to have a heart to heart over gunfire," He looked to Nikita; she was stricken. Well, who could blame her, really? She'd just seen someone get shot over a dozen times and shake it off like it was nothing. "I'm dead, Nikita. They didn't just kill Casey, they killed me too – but its ok now."

"I don't understand."

"I know," He soothed her. "I should have gone back – but I couldn't, not until I finished something. I don't have much time, but I have to say some things to both of you. Nikita, I love you, I always will, but its too late for us - I'm guessing that it was too late before it even started." He took her hand in his, kissing it tenderly. "I wish that I had met you a very long time ago, before you got yourself tangled up in all of this. But what is is, and what shall be shall be." He closed his eyes, bringing to mind all of the love that they had shared, all of the joy and laughter - each tender sweet moment of it, burning it into his own memory as well as into hers; he brushed the tears from her cheeks, and gazed deeply into her soul. "I'm going to take this with me to my grave, Nikita, to give me something to cling to when things seem impossible. I will always remember you - both of you." He took Michael's hand, and pressed their fingers together, willing the love that was buried so deep within her to come back out again. "Remember, Nikita. Remember. Remember love. Remember loving him. And in the cold dark times, remember me and know that I shall never forget you." He kissed her cheek, then took Michael's gun and ran shooting into the night, taking out agents on both side with reckless abandon – the last image Gray had was the sight of Michael reaching out to Nikita and their lips meeting. It made his soul ache with mixed sorrow and joy – but he was not meant for her, he was only meant to help her rediscover the love that had been ripped from her soul...

>

"The mission was a disaster," Operations said to Madeline. "What happened?"

"According to Michael there was an unknown variable - perhaps I should have allowed him to abort. Still, I was able to use the mayhem to get what we were after," she slid the laser disk across to him.

"Has this unknown variable been identified?"

"Not exactly. Burkoff was able to hack into their system later, and get a look at the security camera footage, but the images are difficult to make out."

>

"They'll never find him," Michael whispered softly to Nikita, who was recovering from the wounds she'd suffered in the botched mission.

"I know," she smiled up at him, just briefly. Fire filled her - she contained it, but it was there, smoldering deep within her and she knew that the last chapter of her life, the one in which her love had been buried, was finally over. Gray had somehow rekindled the spark of her love for Michael - he had selflessly given her back to the man who loved her more than any other man ever could. She closed her eyes and the image of the crow flying away into the night still burned in her memory - it was an image she would never forget. At last she knew what had become of her old lover, her friend. Gray.

_**Nobody's Diary**  
by Yaz_

_If I wait for just a second more_

_I know I'll forget what I came here for_

_My head was so full of things to say_

_But as I open my lips, all my words slip away  
Ah-ha_

_And anyway_

_I can't believe you want to turn the page_

_And move your life into another stage_

_You can change the chapter you can change the book_

_But the story remains the same, if you take a look_

_Ah-ha_

_Ah-ha_

_For the time we've had, I don't want to be_

_A page in your diary, babe_

_For the good the bad, I don't want to see_

_A page in your diary, babe_

_For the happy the sad, I don't want to be_

_A page in your diary, babe_

_Just another page in your diary_

_Perhaps if I held you, I could win again_

_I could take your hand, we'd talk and maybe babe_

_That look in your eyes I always recognize_

_Would tell me everything is gonna be fine_

_You're gonna be mine_

_For a long time_

_For the time we've a had I don't want to be_

_A page in your diary, babe_

_For the good, the bad, I don't want to see_

_A page in your diary, babe_

_For the happy, the sad, I don't want to be_

_Another page_

_In your diary_

_For the time we've had, I don't want to be_

_A page in your diary, babe_

_For the good the bad I don't want to be_

_A page in your diary, babe_

_For the happy the sad, I don't want to be_

_Just another page  
In your history_


End file.
